


The Art of Adjusting

by happy_valley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Happy Birthday Caitlin, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29738193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_valley/pseuds/happy_valley
Summary: Draco Malfoy had decided he was going to die in Azkaban. But when a guard pulls him from his cell, throws him his robes and tells him he’s leaving on probation nothing makes sense to him. It seems the only thing scarier than dying in prison is learning how to live on the outside.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: A Very Dramione/Drarry/Reylo/Disney Birthday Celebration for Caitlincheri28





	The Art of Adjusting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitlincheri28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28/gifts).



> CAITLIN! I love you so much and I’m so glad fan fics brought me to you. Thanks for being such a beautiful person inside and out. Have a happy birthday♥️ 
> 
> Beta love to shamione 💖

Draco sat with his knees to his chest as he looked around the small dingy cell one last time - the cell that had, at one point in time, marked the end of life as Draco Malfoy had once known it. In another lifetime, one where money and status had meant everything, Draco would never have envisioned himself glancing at such a disgusting, grime-infested hole. But times certainly had changed for the Malfoy heir. Though slowly, over time, he had grown accustomed to the cell, spending his time making patterns in the mildew-covered walls and finding comfort from listening to the steady drip of water each day. Sure, he had reasoned that there were better, cleaner environments in which to die, but Draco had accepted that this was where he was meant to be. 

However, much to his surprise, Draco’s sentence had been commuted. It had been a shock when a guard walked to his cell and ordered him to stand with a gruff voice. When Draco followed the man, he was led to a room where the guard had unceremoniously tossed him the robes he'd been brought here with and instructed him to get dressed. 

“Why?” Draco asked, feeling confused as to what was going on. 

“You’re leavin’ kid,” the guard replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Draco blinked in confusion. Leaving? He was not meant to leave for another four years if his math had served him correctly. Had time really flown by that quickly?

“What’s the date?” He asked the guard, shedding his prisoner robes from his body. The cold sea air whipped around him, causing a shiver to run down the length of his spine. He hurried to dress, finding his clothes now engulfing him more than they had when he'd first arrived. 

“March 10th, 1999,” the guard answered in a bored tone. March 1999? That would mean that he had only been in Azkaban for  _ ten months _ . 

“I was sentenced to five years,” Draco stated, perplexed. “It hasn’t even been a year.”

The guard shrugged with an annoyed sigh. “Ministry decided to create a probation program, and you’re one of the names on the list.”

“But-”

“Kid, do you want to leave or not?” The guard asked in a tone of exasperation. 

Draco paled and nodded his head. The guard rolled his eyes and muttered that he did not get paid enough to answer ridiculous questions. As they walked through the prison, Draco could not help but feel utterly confused. He was a war criminal; he was a death eater. He was meant to serve out his sentence in prison. Why would he be released so soon? 

As they made their way to the only operational Floo within the prison, the guard turned to Draco with a stern look. “Don’t let me see you back here.” 

Draco stepped into the Floo, and the guard threw in a handful of powder and shouted, “Ministry of Magic: Harry Potter’s office.” 

Utter shock colored Draco’s features when he heard Potter’s name.  _ What the  _ **_fuck_ ** _ was going on?  _

Draco fell out of the Floo, landing face-first on a carpeted floor. It took him a moment to stand, partially due to how soft the plush carpet was - he tried to recall if he'd ever felt anything so soft before. When he did manage to stand, he came face to face with the git that he'd set out to hate in school, whose green eyes seemed to be enhanced by his wire-rimmed glasses.. 

“You’re late,” Potter stated, looking back to the clock on the wall. 

“Late?” 

“Fifteen minutes late. The orientation started fifteen minutes ago,” Potter explained. He furrowed his brows and blinked before speaking again. “Merlin, did they feed you in there? You look awful.” 

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco spat. Potter pulled out his wand, and Draco couldn’t help but flinch. Harry muttered a spell, and instantly Draco’s robes seemed to adjust themselves to fit his body properly. When Potter finally tucked his wand back into his robes, Draco stood straighter, asking skeptically, “Why am I here?” 

“You’ve been released as a part of our new probation program,” Potter started, glancing back at the clock on the wall with a sigh. “Well, seeing as we missed the orientation that  _ would  _ have explained everything, I suppose I will explain it to you,” he said, taking his glasses off of his nose to clean them. 

If Potter's pause was to wait for a response, Draco wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The two stood in awkward silence for a few minutes until Potter cleared his throat. 

“Alright, so... our probationary program takes low-level offenders and gives them a chance to integrate into society once again. You will be required to check-in twice a week with a probation officer, and your wand will be monitored. It is not required for you to obtain employment, though it is  _ highly  _ recommended.” 

Potter continued to tell him all of the things that were expected of him, informing Draco that his wand would be monitored and that he was not allowed to Apparate for a minimum of one year - unless accepted by his probation officer. When Potter finished his spiel, he looked to Draco to ask if he had any questions. 

“Who is my probation officer?” Draco asked. 

“I am,” Harry answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Draco groaned inwardly. 

Maybe he should have stayed in Azkaban.

*

In the weeks that followed Draco’s release from Azkaban, the blond Slytherin had learned that there were  _ many  _ positives to being released. He could eat whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Showering was also a freedom that he'd taken for granted before going to prison. In any normal circumstance, Draco could call for an elf to run him a bath while he lazed about - a stark difference from the structured bathing times the prison had in place. It also did not hurt that he could walk through his home without fear of being attacked. There had been many incidents in Azkaban where inmates had physically attacked anyone they could get their hands on, whether it be a guard or a fellow inmate. No one was safe. 

However, Draco had also discovered that Azkaban, it appeared, had left some lingering side effects. For instance, he found the soft mattress that he used to sleep on now made him feel as if he was being swallowed whole; he eventually took to sleeping on the floor beside the bed. His ancestral home, about which he had once boasted relentlessly, was so big that the prospect of leaving his room forced his hands to shake. The walls in his room were so clean and white that if he stared at them for too long, his eyes would sting. 

But maybe what Draco hated most of all was that being out of Azkaban meant spending more time with Harry Potter than his nightmares had ever assumed possible. It seemed that Draco saw the wizard more than he had when they went to school together. He knew that he had to deal with Potter at least twice a week, but Potter seemed to find a reason to stop by his manor at least once a day. 

_ “Here are the documents outlining what is expected of you during your probation.” _

_ “I forgot to put a monitoring charm on your wall.”  _

_ “How do you even get around this place? I’ve been here for an hour trying to find you.” _

No matter how many times Draco demanded that Potter leave and only come round when he was mandated to, he seemed never to listen. It did not help that when Draco threatened to hex him, the wizard would simply laugh and remind him that he could not. And no matter how many times Draco blocked his Floo off before going to bed, he still seemed to find the bespectacled git sitting in his kitchen the next morning drinking a mug of tea that the elves had been more than happy to prepare. 

Which is how he found Potter today, with the addition of a hearty plate of breakfast sitting before him. “Do you always have to come so early?” Draco asked, sending Potter his best glare. 

Potter seemed unperturbed by Draco’s irritation with his presence as he continued to eat his food. “Why do you always sleep in so late?” Potter countered, swallowing his food. Draco scowled but didn’t answer as he sat across from Potter, a plate of food appearing in front of him. Draco was not going to tell Potter that he was not sleeping at all. “Have you considered getting a job as we discussed?” 

Draco wanted to laugh. They hadn't discussed anything. Potter had merely helped himself to his father’s brandy and told him that he needed to find a job. Below the table, Draco could feel Potter's shoe knock against his ankle softly. 

“No,” Draco responded. The raven-haired wizard stared at him for a long moment before standing to his feet. 

“You should,” he replied before looking at his watch. “Well, I best be off. Thanks for the breakfast.” 

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Draco grumbled, though his words held none of the anger it once had. And when Potter let out a chuckle, Draco was surprised to feel his lips curving into a smile of their own. 

Once his probation officer left his kitchen, Draco noticed a copy of the Daily Prophet folded neatly on the table. He took the newspaper into his hand and rolled his eyes as he noticed job listings printed on the page. As he went to throw the page down, a marking in the text caught his eye. Bringing the paper closer to his face, Draco noticed a potions apprenticeship had been circled. He rolled his eyes before throwing the paper down again with a huff. 

*

“You look like shit,” Potter said, taking in Draco’s appearance. 

Draco scowled over at the wizard, but his features changed into that of shock when he took in the man's appearance. “What happened to your face?” He asked, squinting his eyes to get a better look. Potter's face seemed to redden as he brought his finger to his collar. Was he hot? Draco felt that it was pretty chilly in the manor. 

“I, uh, I ordered contacts,” he explained, but Draco stared at him in confusion. “Oh, it’s uh, well -” Harry began to bring his finger to his eye, causing Draco to let out a noise of disgust. 

“Mother of Merlin, what the fuck are you doing?” Draco shouted, feeling bile rising in his throat. The raven-haired wizard merely let out a laugh and shook his head. 

“You have to put the contacts in your eyes each day,” he told him with a smirk. 

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco responded. Potter laughed once more before he opened his folder and scanned the contents. 

“I need to check your bedroom,” he informed Draco, causing the blond to blink at him in confusion. 

“Why?” Draco asked incredulously. 

“It’s on the prescribed list,” Harry replied, motioning to the folder in his hand. 

Draco scowled. Truth be told, he had not even looked at the list that Potter had given to him weeks ago. Instead he'd merely tossed it aside and never looked at it again. 

With a heavy sigh, Draco motioned for the raven-haired wizard to follow him. He dreaded each step, knowing that Potter would not at all be pleased with the sight that greeted him. Beside him, he could hear a sharp inhale. 

“Malfoy...what?” He stepped further into the room, taking in the sight of the mess of linens on the floor, clearly evident that it was where Draco spent his nights. He slowly walked over to the wall, which was now messily painted black. He turned back toward Draco with an expectant expression. “What the hell happened in here?” 

Draco stared at the wizard before him, unsure of what to say. How could he tell him that he couldn’t sleep because the silence in his room was so deafening it drove him mad? Or that the walls were so bright that the moon reflected off of them, causing Draco to curl into a ball, seeking the darkness that his Azkaban cell had provided? He wasn’t even sure if Potter would give a damn. Why would he? Draco was the villain in his story. 

“I - I have trouble sleeping...” The blond explained weakly, scratching the back of his neck. Potter took another glance around his room before looking incredulously over at Draco once more.

“You’ve never mentioned this before, Malfoy,” Potter said confused. Draco could see something flash across his features. “How long have you been having trouble sleeping?” 

“Since I came home,” Draco answered honestly, feeling as though lying would be futile. Potter said nothing, and Draco could not help but grow antsy as he waited for him to speak.

“You’ve been home for almost two months.”

“The silence is a lot. There was a drip in my cell, which used to be the only thing I could focus on at night.”

The raven-haired wizard nodded in understanding before replying. “You’re a lot messier than I would have assumed,” he said, a lightness in his tone that seemed to relax Draco more than he would have thought possible. 

The blond sneered over at the other wizard before giving him the middle finger. “Oh, go change your eyeballs, Potter,” he snapped, which earned a hearty laugh. 

The following day, Draco padded down to the kitchen to find his house-elf standing in the middle of the room holding a small white contraption. When Draco asked what he had in his hands, the elf handed it to Draco, informing him that Potter had dropped it off with specific instructions to give it directly to him. 

Draco eyed the machine before hesitantly pressing the button labeled " _ on."  _ He jumped slightly, wondering when the sound of rain began to permeate through the room. He hastily pushed the " _ off"  _ button before turning on his heel and exiting the kitchen altogether. Draco raced through the halls, skidding to a halt when he made it to his bedroom. Draco set the contraption onto his bed before getting down on his knees and examining it carefully. He had never encountered such a device, so he deduced that it must’ve been a Muggle contraption.

Gingerly, Draco pushed the " _ on"  _ button once more, listening intently as the sound of rainfall surrounded him. Leaning back against the bed, he closed his eyes to listen to the noise. The sound of the rain calmed him immensely, and he felt his body begin to unwind. 

Before Draco even knew it, he had fallen into a deep sleep against the bed. 

*

It was a few weeks later when Potter barged into Draco’s home, unannounced, demanding to know what Draco would be doing for his birthday. 

Draco set down his glass of brandy. “Well, Potter, seeing as my family is in prison and I have virtually no friends or anyone who gives an iota of a fuck about me, I think it’s safe to say I’ll be spending my birthday with the elves.” 

“You could go out,” his house guest suggested, giving him a pointed look. 

Draco stiffened and glared at the raven-haired wizard. It was a conversation that the two of them had had on countless occasions - Potter pushing Draco to leave the manor and Draco resisting. Draco was not sure when Harry was going to take the fucking hint. 

“Don’t make me hex you,”

“You can’t hex me,” Potter replied with a smirk. Draco sneered at him, and he rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair. “Fine, don’t go out,” he relented, and Draco perked up, feeling victory within his reach. 

“Fine, I won’t.” 

*

Draco was not victorious, far from it, in fact. When he had said he was going to be staying in, he had assumed he would be spending the evening in -  _ alone.  _ However, this was not the case. Because there  _ Potter _ was, in typical Potter fashion, fucking it up. 

With the grace of a mountain troll, Potter entered Malfoy Manor holding a rectangular box and wearing a paper hat on his head. Draco choked on his drink at the sight of the wizard, doubling over as his coughing fit took over. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“A party hat,” he responded, looking at Draco in bewilderment. “Have you never seen a party hat?”

“I’m wondering why you are in my house, wearing a party hat, on my birthday.” 

“You’re my friend,” he stated, staring at Draco in confusion. “Friends don’t let friends spend their birthdays alone.” 

“We are not friends,” Draco responded before taking another swig from his glass, but he couldn't help but feel a small flicker in his heart Potter, no... Harry rolled his eyes and began opening the rectangular box revealing a cake. 

“We are,” Harry replied with a sense of finality. Harry levitated the cake from the box and set it gently on the table. “You know, in sixth year, I spent a lot of time following you around-”

“-Creepy-”

“-to see if you were a Death Eater-”

“-I was a Death Eater in the sixth year-”   


“Will you shut the fuck up?” Harry snapped, exasperated. “I thought I’d see this evil git who sought out to make everyone’s life miserable, but instead, I found something… else.” Draco arched a brow at him.

“What exactly did you see?” Draco asked skeptically.

“I saw someone who was alone,” he replied with a shake of his head, “I thought maybe there was something more to you than just a Death Eater,”

“I was a Death Eater,” Draco reminded him, and Harry rolled his eyes. Harry set a piece of cake down in front of the blond and then grabbed a slice for himself. As Harry sat down, his hand brushed against Draco’s, causing the blond to sit straighter, becoming hyper-aware of the wizard next to him. 

Harry settled into his chair and began eating the cake in front of him. Draco, on the other hand, had made no attempts to move as his eyes fixed on Harry’s hand that was so close to his own he could feel the heat radiating off of it. He wondered, just briefly, if Harry had meant to brush his hand. The prospect caused gooseflesh to rise on Draco’s skin.

Draco waited for another minute and decided to test the waters. Ever so slowly, he let his pinky finger stretch out and touch Harry’s finger. When Harry responded by nudging Draco’s finger with his own, the blond withheld a gasp. 

Being the Gryffindor that he was, Harry took the leap and laid his hand on top of Draco’s. “You were a Death Eater, Draco,” Harry said nonchalantly. Draco tried to tear his gaze from their  _ almost  _ entwined hands to look at the wizard. “Are you still one?”

Draco finally tore his eyes from their hands and looked at the green-eyed wizard before him. “No,” he said confidently. Because he was  _ not _ a Death Eater. Maybe once he'd wanted to be, but that was no longer. 

“So who are you, Draco Malfoy?” Harry asked, smirking when Draco gained the courage to flip his hand and place his palm in Harry’s. 

Draco opened his mouth but slowly closed it. Because the answer to that was a bit more convoluted than Draco would have once believed. But in time, he hoped that he would come to learn more about who Draco Malfoy was.

In time, he hoped to learn more about who Harry Potter was too. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
